reality sits
between aspen dream ski runs
and running a house
a wilting orchid
brought by an empty classroom:
symbol of my month
or this calendar
hiding (not hiding) events
never. ending. tasks.
no beach silhouette
could compare to mountain snow
with my boys up front
a small chance to win
with what small time we have left
these teenaged smiles
she's eighteen too soon
my oldest baby, my star
i hope she'll go far
i’ll grasp this aspen
framed by its own starry night
when i need some peace
an exhausting day
with my spirit-week “jersey”
and this fake smile
hidden by these masks
that have broken our world
like a rootless orchid
but this cat. this cat.
a soft purrfection presence
worth a real grin.
my baby skiing
breaking my heart in these trees
(not such a baby)
she skis black diamonds
from the top of the mountain
to her mama’s soul
i'll write a haiku
as easy as this damn day
filled with lines. and love.
you will never know
how hard i've tried to earn this.
you can taste the snow.
you can taste blue sky.
it comes in moments, this love.
moments found on slopes.
our symbolic cat
sitting by his empty plate
waiting for his love
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